Periods

By Mary

Outside, in the yard, you could hear the moaning coming from the house. “My life is over. I am ruined. I am now I a woman. Nothing is going to be the same for the next 50 years. How could this happen to me? I can’t believe I got my period. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I’m going to be in pain for years. I can have babies now. I don’t want this.” Everyone that walked into the house was greeted by the same scene at the kitchen table. Theresa crying and wailing that her life was over now that she got her period. It didn’t matter who walked through the door the neighbor guy, my boyfriend.

I thought it was funny, hilarious that she was telling everyone but at the same time I was mortified that she would share this with anyone.

I got my period when I was 14. I was so embarrassed. I didn’t tell anyone. I cut up rags and used them as pads. I didn’t tell my mom till 3 days in. I made her promise not to tell dad. I couldn’t imagine if he were to find out. I hide in my room after I told her I was so embarrassed. She didn’t ask if I needed pads, and I didn’t ask her for any.

The wails continued, “Shoes? I don’t care if I get shoes. I don’t want my period.” Shoes, what were these shoes? Bridget informed me yes, shoes. Everyone gets shoes when they get their period. Who was this everyone? Everyone? Everywhere? Everyone in this family? Where were my shoes? My mom said, “Oh, you didn’t get shoes?” Nooo… was that my penance for not lamenting at the kitchen table about my period?

“The worse is when you see a guy, especially the guy you like, then your period comes gushing out,” Molly informed her. Fine I thought, believe Molly, you get shoes.